


More dances my rapt heart

by Sotano



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Which fails miserably, a bit of TAS, all the canons all at once, coriolanus is used to justify bad choices, fuck it, shakespeare for the purposes of emotional detachment, some comics, some wolverine and the x-men vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotano/pseuds/Sotano
Summary: When Charles gets depowered, he feels a fear he doesn't want to address. Magneto is a little too eager to help. The Shakespeare, however, isnothelping.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	More dances my rapt heart

Magneto was obscured in shadow, the moonlight reached only his thighs where he sat, but Charles could feel his steel gaze on him as he entered the room.

"Charles," he said, supremely unsurprised. "Here to bare your throat to my knife once again?"

Metal shards formed themselves out of the wall and sped to float inches from Charles' neck as if to prove a point. Their razor edges glinted in the pale light, sending little reflections dancing across the walls as they lazily turned.

"In a sense," Charles admitted, letting the jab at his nonviolence pass easily. "I need your help."

The silence was hard to judge. Suddenly, Erik raised to his feet, pulling the rest of his body into the light. He took off the helmet, since it was a bit redundant for the moment, which Erik must have surmised from Charles' walking. Charles couldn't sense anything, and since the moment he'd been cut off from his powers he'd never felt their loss so keenly as he did now. Erik was scowling fiercely, and half of his face was dark, and that was all Charles knew. Magneto circled him, so he did his best to look calm.

"I haven't seen you in years, and suddenly you show up on by doorstep bloodied, powerless, vaguely..." he turned away, waved a hand at Charles' form, " _suicidal_."  
Charles didn't like that. It felt dangerous, that Magneto seemed so able to read him, while he felt so uniquely blind. He grasped at straws, looking for a way to control the conversation.  
"You have every right to--"  
"--Don't tell me what I have a right to feel, Charles," he snapped, turning back again. "That's too much presumption to bear, even from you."  
Charles stayed quiet, while Magneto watched him. He wondered if Erik was deciding whether or not to kill him.

"Just tell me, then." Magneto said finally, leaning back onto his desk, throwing his face back into the shadows.  
Charles peered into the dark, puzzled.  
"What happened?"  
Oh, God, was that concern? Did Charles want it to be? Which was worse?

"There was an attack," he said lamely. "While I was... I don't suppose you--"  
"--We have televisions here, Charles," Erik said, a little bitter. "I saw the debate. What did he do to you?"  
The televised debate with Gyrich had been going swimmingly, until it went terribly wrong, of course. Gyrich turned around and used some kind of Worthington-Trask device, outing Charles Xavier as a mutant to the world, and stripping him of his powers.

"What he's going to do to us all, I'm afraid, unless we stop him. I read something, before he cut me off from my powers. They call it Legacy. They're going to put it in... _everything_. But there's an antidote, and I've found out where they're keeping it. I have no right to ask you any of this, but I need your help. If you can get me to the antidote, I can use Cerebro to find everyone who knows how to make the disruptor. The X-Men have been given instructions to prepare, and guard the children. I can't... I don't want to risk this for them. I don't want them to know what I'd do to protect them."

Magneto didn't say anything, but his frown had darkened tellingly, and perhaps Charles' eyes were adjusting to the gloom. The bigger mutant leaned up off of the desk and strode easily to loom over Charles.  
"I would... owe you. If I could get my powers back, I could help you, I could stay for a while. If you want--"  
Magneto kissed him, and Charles was too surprised to react, even to move. Erik's hands were at either side of his face, and his eyes were shut even while Charles', shocked, stayed open. He kissed him again, gentler, and pulled away. Enough, at least, to look at him. Charles blinked back a small prickling of tears.

"Get some rest, Charles. We'll coordinate the attack tomorrow."  
"You're going to help me," Charles said slowly, trying to let it sink in. Even though they were gone he could still feel the pressure of Erik's lips. The metal shards had fallen away.  
"Even if I didn't despise Trask-Worthington with every inch of my being, Charles, the fact that they've done this to you would be enough," Erik said, quiet, fervent.  
"I've done nothing to deserve your--"  
Magneto kissed him again, and Charles' hands came to his shoulders as he pushed the telepath against the wall. This time, Charles kissed back, and Magneto made an appreciative, rumbling noise. God, Charles wanted his powers back. He wanted Erik, but that was nothing new.

"Do you have _any idea_ how gratifying it is to know that you still come to me when you're afraid? How many times have we fought, in the last few years? Really fought, on the battlefield, like last time."  
Charles hated that this did it for him, for both of them. He hated that Erik could talk to him like this, handle him like this, at such a fucking low point, and he'd still be so willing. Erik's kisses were even starting to hurt, and he was hard so fast it made his head feel light.  
"I've had this on my mind ever since. Fuck, Charles, I _dream_ about this."

Shit, why was that ringing bells? Beyond the usual alarm bells, of course, which he ignored as always. It was something he'd picked up on earlier. Something about baring his neck to Erik's knife, something about this whole situation. Erik was leading him into a comparison, something that was supposed to hurt. Oh. _Oh_.  
"You're thinking it too, aren't you? 'We have been down together in my sleep, unbuckling helms,'" he quoted.  
Erik growled, turning Charles around to press against the wall in a fluid motion. His boot kicked lightly at each of Charles' ankles in turn, pulling his legs apart, and then he pressed his whole body neatly against Charles'. The metal wall was freezing, and Erik was obviously hardening, even if his costume hadn't shown it well in the dark.

"'My valour’s poison’d with only suffering stain by him,'" Erik threw back at him, voice dipping lowly. "'He’s mine, or I am his.'"

I'll kill him, or he'll kill me. Erik was mixing lines, had breathed it onto his neck, just to drive his point across. Coriolanus and Aufidius hated each other until the moment they didn't, and all that hate was transmuted into something more passionate. Why was a line about murder so romantically composed? Why was Erik's tone so vulnerable, while his hands touched him so brusquely? That, at least, Charles could contest. Erik's hands had reached around his waist to undo his belt, he was undressing him like he couldn't stand to touch him, as if he weren't achingly hard for him. Charles could get better out of the mutant master of magnetism.  
"No," Charles said, turning around so that his back was to the wall.  
"No?"  
Charles kissed his confusion away sweetly, hand on the back of Erik's neck. When he pulled away, Erik chased after him for a moment before realizing it. "Bed," Charles said, firm, and Erik's face twitched annoyance. For a moment, he looked as if he might call Charles' bluff, turn him back around and fuck him against the wall like they both probably knew Charles would let him. Then his head tilted, and he gave way to a mockingly indulgent expression.

He made a violent gesture at the wall opposite them, somewhere in the dark, and it opened like a wound to reveal a low-lit bedroom. The metal wall Charles was being pressed into melted back a little, too. Charles didn't have time to react before a bit of it wrapped itself around his arm and yanked him towards the other room. Erik followed in his long strides.

Usually, Charles would fight this kind of manhandling. Or at the very least undermine it, like he had in the other room. He'd bite back, as it were, dip into Erik's mind, or make some mocking comment. Something. He knew Erik liked to feel in control, but so did he, in his way. There was an odd gratefulness that choked him, though. Not to mention that Erik seemed upset and without his powers he couldn't navigate exactly how deep that well of resentment ran, especially not having seen each other in so long. Why, then, was he going through with any of this? Erik's powers pulled him backwards now, onto the bed, and Erik came down above him, knee between his legs, undressing thoughtlessly. The metal that had dragged him here slithered away to rejoin the wall, and Charles pulled his own clothes off once freed.

"What was the line? About the body against which my, ah, _spears_ have crashed. You always were better at recalling them, or was it all just a product of your powers?"  
Erik's finger pressed against him, slicked and heady, and Charles didn't want to rise to meet the intellectual challenge but he was too annoyed not to. Annoyed that he was still so hard, that Erik was unreadable, the unfairness of this whole situation. The fact that Gyrich had made him vulnerable, and vulnerability had driven him straight into Magneto's arms.

"Fuck you, Erik. You know the whole monologue. A hundred times, and scarred the moon with splinters, and just because I don't have my powers doesn't mean I don't know you better than you know yourself."  
Erik made a low sound, and fucked him open with another finger as he murmured against skin.  
"Here I clip the anvil of my sword," he said, and it carried a bitter, mocking tone.

It should have been a bad sign that Erik was skipping the softer lines, in an already violent monologue. It should have been telling. Charles was a little too preoccupied to notice, until Erik pulled his fingers away.

They hadn't done this in a long time, and logically Erik must have known Charles needed more preparation than that, but his expression was still snarling as he bore down on Charles.  
"Erik," Charles warned.  
"You seriously weren't sure I'd help you," Erik said, lip curled, lining himself up with one hand. "Don't ever doubt me like that again."  
"I'm sorry," Charles said, and the worst part was that it was true. Still, he shouldn't have said it, he was supposed to be smarter than that. The only thing Erik hated from Charles more than pity was self-pity.  
"Shut up, Charles," Erik sighed as he pressed in.

Charles cried out, mainly in shock, but Erik hadn't exactly gotten any smaller since last time, and it fucking _hurt_. Magneto only made a pleased gasp, the utter bastard. In what retribution he could manage, Charles' nails dug half-moons into Erik's shoulders, but the bigger mutant didn't even seem to notice. Charles could practically weep from the frustration of lacking his higher mental powers, now. Erik's hand cupped Charles' ass as the telepath writhed, and the other held him down.

"Jesus, Erik," Charles said, as he really started to move. They were stupidly familiar, or else why had it started to feel so good?  
Erik's thumb was digging painfully into his upper thigh, an odd sensation mixing with the distant ache of a few of his minor injuries, totally overpowered by the adrenaline burning through his system, by the sheer wall of dopamine, and the fact that Erik was speeding up. Charles' cry this time was of a very different caliber.  
"Fuck, _take it_."  
"You're such a bastard--"  
"--You'd know--"  
"--God, that's--"  
"--Good, so fucking good for me, Charles," Erik said, and his other hand came to Charles' throat. When he clamped down, Charles' arm shot up to return the threat. He could feel Erik's fingers digging into tendons before the bigger mutant finally wrenched his grasp away to take Charles' arm and pin it above his head.

"You're mine, Charles."  
"The--converse is also true," Charles said, tilting his chin up a little defiantly. His other hand snaked around to the back of Erik's head, grabbing a fistful of white hair and pulling. "You're mine."  
Magneto groaned, his hands shot down to Charles' hips. He pulled Charles up, just enough, and slammed down brutally. He was close, Charles realized belatedly. Worse, Charles was painfully close himself. Erik seemed to sense that, and his hand went to Charles' cock. He tugged once, twice. "I'll kill him," he said. "For ever _touching_ you."  
Charles came, biting back an expletive. Erik fucked into him, bruising, expression still something approaching rage, and came with a stuttering gasp, a snapping of the hips.

Magneto collapsed onto him, hot and heavy, and they both breathed for a moment in the gloom. Charles wondered if this was anything like what Magneto claimed to have dreamed of. He knew how that part of the monologue ended, and he felt it more profoundly than whatever fleeting dreams he had of the two of them. And waked half dead with nothing, Charles thought to himself, knowing that even if they succeeded tomorrow, he'd have to return to reality at some point, and have nothing but violent dreams.


End file.
